


Bipolar behind bars

by Raine_on_me



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Manic Ian Gallagher, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_on_me/pseuds/Raine_on_me
Summary: Episodes of Ian dealing with his bipolar. All chapters are only loosely connected.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 36
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

Ian's work shift was almost over. He had finished cleaning bed pans, folding sheets and sweeping the infirmary floor. His knowledge in the medical field gave him the perfect opportunity to land himself into a high commodity work placement. He was lurking around, not his usual professional self. Looking over his shoulder he opened a drawer; all medicine was locked away on the other side of the room, all of the medical tools were also locked away. But Ian wasn't after those. He began shoving condoms into his pockets; more than they would need between work shifts or even the first of the month when the state gave out free condoms each month. 

His meds haven't been working, dosage issues, situational problems kept his brain from working properly. But all that didn't matter, wasn't fulling being noticed because Mickey was back, and Ian was going to show him how happy he was to see him.

The butterflies in his stomach hid how hyper he truly was. He just wanted to be moving constantly; and had thought if the best way to do that. 

Grinning widely Ian walked back into his cell. Still not over the feeling of seeing Mickey there. He stood in awe. Mickey glanced up as Gallagher still standing with that stupid smile on his face just waiting for Mickey to ask him the question. Mick glanced him over seeing the bulges in his pants. "Ya happy to see me?" He teased.

"You have no fucking idea" he began to pull lines of condoms out of his pockets.

“Jesus fucking Christ man, how much sex were you planning on having?” 

"Gotta make up for lost time, ya know."   
******   
The condom wrappers littered the floor; neither of them cared that mandatory room check that was tomorrow morning. 

"Do you ever stop?” Mickey chuckled as he adjusted himself after cleaning up. He glanced over his shoulder at Ian. "Seriously?" He shoot his head in disbelief Ian hadn't stopped jerking him off, even though he came just a minute ago and his dick was raw. Mick wondered how he stayed hard this long, "you're insane!" The kid was a damn machine 

Ian was insane

"That mean you ain't ready to go again?" Ian played up how sad he was. His cock still dripping, his lips bright red from kissing, sucking, small beads of sweat formed on his temple and he wanted more.

"I got nothin' fucking left Gallagher" 

"You gotta have faith…" Ian began to sing sitting up on the edge of the bed. "Come on Mickey, you gonna sing along?” 

"You know I ain't singing"

"Then maybe do something more productive with your mouth" Ian slid his ass right to the edge of the bed. He licked his kips. “Come on. It’s funny, plus you said you'd suck my dick whener I wanted…"

“This is insane.” Mickey muttered as he lowered himself down onto his knees. Ian's fingers twirled in his hair. His touch sent electricity firing through Mickey, he had fucking missed him. 

Mickey bobbed his head, setting the pace knowing what will set Ian off. Ian began panting above him, tightening his grip in Mickey's hair; causing mick to groan, snaking a hand into his pants and boxers to rub at his swollen member.

Ian begins to thrust up into Mickey's mouth, the adrenaline cording through his veins, he bit his own lip wanting to push further down Mickey's throat. His body shook, the orgasm bubbled, Ian let out a sign of excitement and release. Ian groaned Mickey's name as he finished taking him Mickey swallowed, hot come as it ejected in spurts. When every drop is done, Mickey pulled back, panting heavily.

“That was amazing,” Ian laughed “I told you you’d enjoy yourself.”

Ian was a maniac. 

****  
Ian settled into the bottom bunk with Mickey who was already drifting his breathing coming closer to snoring with every breath.

"Mickey…"

"Wha.., what, you okay," Mickey mumbled, rolling over toward Ian on the inside of the bunk, before Ian could answer Mickey's breathing was back to snoring

Ian shifted hoping his movements would wake up Mickey. He turned his body facing the wall. He pushed his ass into Mickey's hip seeing if there would be a response.

Nothing.

Ian flipped again, wrapping his arms around Mickey's his fingers scratched at Mickey's lower back making the sleepy man moan.

"Again?" Mickey muttered. "Just lemme get some sleep, just a little sleep..."

****  
Mickey was sure the whole cell block could smell them; for damn sure they heard Gallagher who seemed to be louder than normal "you good man?" Not knowing how to ask what he really wanted. 

"Lil sore maybe but nothing that's gonna stop me--that Charlie horse last night…just need more water today is all"

"Maybe take it easy today" Mickey wasn't one to complain about sex; especially from Ian. But they had certainly made up for lost time. Ian's arm swung around Mick's shoulder landing with a powerful thud. Causing him to scribble on his newest sketch.  
" So just cuddling? Little fingering maybe. Or maybe I just blow you" 

Mickey shrugged Ian's shoulder off him "maybe later" 

Ian slumped back. He watched Mickey sketch for a while before the need to have his hands over him hit. "Nice work" Ian's body shifted his lips close to Mickey's ear, his hand reached up petting his head softly.

"Thank…" Mickey said hesitantly. A pair of strong arms wrapped around him. Then, Ian's soft lips being pressed to the top of his head.

"Ian you ok?" He asked again a little more focused

"Huh? Yeah, just trying to show you some damn affection, sorry you don't understand, love."

Mickey groaned the last thing he wanted to do was start a fight. "Fuck you know that ain't what I meant" he took a breathe he needed to work on his anger. Close living quarters weren't helping. But he could control his anger, he knew whatever was going on in Ian's head was out of his control. "You ain't level man and you know it. Yer sick we need to stay ahead of it not feed it" 

"I'm not sick mick…I'm just--not well"


	2. Chapter 2

"I haven't had a shower in 6 days." Ian made the realization feeling only a bit of the fog lifting from his brain. He was laying on Mickey's bunk when the thought popped into his head staring at the bunk above. His eyes fixated on the peeled pieces of paint. Ian didn't need to be touching Mickey, just being next to him made him feel safe.

"You sure?" Mickey asked sketching in his book again not feeling the urgency to look up "ain't seeing any stinklines yet pigpen."

"I'm sure. Been using the wipes from the infirmary" he admitted. Ian got a work placement there after spending the first month of incarceration there. He was an inmate so they didn't trust him with the medical equipment or pills but his familiarity with the terminology made him virtually free help for the on site doctor, and male nurse intern. "Wipe my face, pits and groin so ya wouldn't notice" Ian felt ashamed. He sat up, swinging his legs over so he sat on the edge on Mickey's bunk not sure if he wanted to look at him, to see the disgusting in his eyes of someone who could do that to himself. 

"How'd ya swipe those? Flirt with the intern?" 

The words literally hurt Ian. His head spun around to look at him 'mick-- no I wouldn't-- I--"

Mickey shrugged "I dunno seems like the easiest way." Always the criminal mind. Yes he was still hurt from all the shit that happened between the border and being behind bars. But he always trusted Ian when they were together; he had no reason to doubt him now.

"I've been placing Kleenex inbetween the wipes so they won't notice it getting low." 

"Wait, we showered yesterday? Right? Where the hell were you?" Mickey started to believe Ian's assumption on how long it had been since he showered 

"Infirmary. Faked a fever." Ian went on to explain how he had burrowed his head in his pillows and blankets. So that by the time the cell doors opened he appeared flush and with a mild fever. 

"Fuck" Mickey exhaled not realizing how bad things had gotten right under his nose "that why you were back from work duty early on Monday" he didn't need Ian to answer Mickey figured he'd already pieced it together. 

"And you want a shower now?" Mickey nodded maybe to encourage Ian to nod along so that he agreed. 

"It ain't shower time don't matter" Ian felt himself sink back into the bunk. The small amount of desire was fading.

"It matters" Mickey stood up, walked over to the large soils door and placed his palm flat against it before banging it three times "AY, open up" he yelled.

Ian knew it wasn't time for the doors to be unlocked it wasn't time for anything. It was nearly lights out. All Mickey was going to do was piss people off. Maybe telling him was a mistake. 

It didn't take long for the guard to appear in the small door. "DeSota open up Gallagher's going for a shower" Ian couldn't see Mickey's face but he was sure he had given the guard a look that said do it or die. the Milkovich name had prison running down to a science. It shouldn't have surprised Ian. That alone made him realize how much he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, seeing how Mickey was able to have things like sketch book and pencils when he was definitely a high risk of stabbing someone 

Ian turn the shower on to warm it up, the pipes were old and the pressure was shit. The lights were dim, he couldn't bother turning on the fluorescent lights that would have aggravated his looming headache and would burn his eyes making him regret the decision. So Ian took the moment to amped himself up for the shower he ran his fingers through his hair, the grease build up obvious. Being thankful he had a buzz cut when he arrived he didn't have to worry about hair loss due to stress.

He out his hand under the water, warmer than when everyone is showering together. Ian took the slow step to be under the water his feet on the tile floor. He inhaled slowly, letting the water hit his face. He felt dirty for the first time as the water hit his oily skin, rolling off him as if he was a duck. 

Ian began attaching at his body feeling the thin cloth wasn't scrubbing him well enough, he needed to get the layer of filth off of himself. Dragging his nails down his arms he could feel the build up of dead skin collecting. His skin turned red. Only the sound of the water filled his ears, only the sight of his hands clawing was all he could see. Ian didn't hear anyone else, see anyone else until Mickey's hand was over his, slowing the movements. "Lemme help"

Mickey grabbed the shampoo first squirting the minty green goo into his hands. He reached up, working his hands into Ian's red hair and the shampoo into a lather.

Ian closed his eyes, hoping Mickey avoided getting soap in them. It didn't relax him having Mickey do this for him, but he was exhausted from just making it to the shower, making the help more welcoming. Mickey scraped back the ensuring none was near Ian's face continuing the scalp massage.

Water and suds went down the drain; wrapping around their toes. Mickey didn't complain about the water even through Ian knew he'd turned it to be as hot as possible. Mickey seems to continue with washing Ian's back, strong enough to feel like he's actually getting the layer of skin and grim off but not draw any blood which Ian had been on the path to do. 

"Look at him" Mickey's voice had all the control and yet still calm. Ian did as he said. Mickey took the wash cloth to Ian's chiseled jaw bone washing it slowly in small circles, up over the temples, across the forehead, down his nose and finishing at his chin. It was soft, sensual, tiring, it was needed. 

Ian hung his head resting it on Mickey's shoulders. He hated he needed the help. He loved that he had someone who would do this for him. He almost felt human again. 

Mickey let them stand there for a minute without saying a word before pushing on Ian "come on." He didn't need Ian to tell him. He knew this was all he could handle for right now. Tomorrow they would talk and come up with a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a constant battle for Ian to learn how not to be in his head, having a lot of time on his hands. He had to find ways to not overthink or worry about every little thing because it would spiral his anxiety and depression. One thought like a domino knocking into another eventually out of control.

He knew he couldn't use Mickey as his 24/7 shrink. He couldn't tell him that every sniff made him wonder if the new soap that he had just used was bothering him, or if he should apologize even if Ian had no control over the type of soap he was using; the fact they used the same fucking soap didn't occur to him. He couldn't tell mick that every glance he made in Ian's direction had Ian analyzing to an unhealthy level. Wondering if it was an aggravated look? Had Ian done something and Mickey was holding it against him? Maybe he should apologize just in case. 

The loud buzz of the doors releasing took him out of his brain. Ian opened his eyes staring up at the white ceiling above his bunk. He had every crack, every stain memorized, but he was still unable to get the energy to propel himself up to leave. 

"Ian, comin'?" Mickey asked his feet already planted on the floor. 

Ian didn't want to move; couldn't move. Having no desire to will his body upright just to be in another closed off room wondering if he was fucking up and unable to stop even if he was. He was the first domino, starting the inevitable destruction.

"Gallagher," Mickey's voice was more commanding, "lunch let's go." It wasn't a question this time. Ian managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bunk, lurching himself forward. 

Lunch was nothing to write home about. Ian wasn't sure how they even called it food. But he ate it none the less. He was completely absorbed in his surroundings; watching the sea of yellow jumpers walk around mindlessly. He hadn't noticed Mickey leave or return to the table. Too focused on making sure he didn't stare at one person too long; he already made that mistake with Dickenson. He hadn't meant to look at the guy; he had just been lost in his own thoughts. Apparently he had a stare down with the guy and had gotten himself on his shitlist.

"You hate games." Ian looked surprised as Mickey revealed the small tin box of Dominos. Had Mickey read his mind? Did he know how Ian was feeling?

"No, I hate losing." He flipped the lid off. "Nothing to worry about here."

Maybe Mickey didn't think Ian was the reason everything goes wrong. He tried to smile at his boyfriend, tease him, play along.

"And you think you'll win then huh?" He decided to help set up placing a nickle on the domino that would be the train. And holding onto Pennies for his turn

"It's patterns and numbers," Mickey reminded Ian. "Maybe you forgot how I ended up here?"

Yes, it had to do with fucking over the cartel, but it was more that Mickey had always been good with money, moving it around so people didn't see it, so it looked clean, so he could skim off the top. Numbers and patterns were how Mickey's brain worked. 

Chaos or fog was how Ian's brain worked. Perhaps playing a friendly game would keep Ian out of his own head and certainly keep him out of trouble for the next few minutes. With limited resources it was all Mickey could offer to keep Ian occupied. 

Ian started with his 'train' by putting the first domino down; since he had the highest double domino. He could see Mickey rolling his eyes already losing out the gate. Subsequent turns followed. 

Ian glanced at the black tiles, he saw that Mickey had matched the threes and was waiting on Ian who was thumbing over the tile in his hand.

Ian wondered if their lives were like the tiles; a series of events land down a specific way to get them here. He wondered if their paths could have been different. What if their paths never crossed or if only for a moment; if Mickey never stole that snickers bar they wouldn't have a lifetime of moments together. 

He knew Mickey didn't believe in destiny, that all this running through all of the possibilities was him trying to grasp the reality they had been delt, but ultimately, they were stuck here. Ian was starting to think Dominos wasn't having the desired effect Mickey was hoping for.

Ian's fingers moved the tile over and around, more concerned about where each tile was leading and what they meant than with actually playing the damn game. 

"That a one Gallagher? It's the only move you got." Mickey had enough time to look at the board and was tired of Ian's stalling. 

"Oh, yeah." Ian shook his head in a quick motion to come back to reality. He placed his tile down. One next to one. A perfect match.

"Mother fucker!" Mickey obviously thinking he had cornered Ian and was about to win the game.

"You thought you'd win a game called mexican train?" The thought brought a real chuckle to Ian's lips. Winning the round ensured he scored zero points. While Mickey had to count his remaining tiles. "Good thing you're good with numbers" 

Mickey gave him a death stare before telling him to collect the Dominoe's and start again.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of heavy panting made Mickey shift in his bottom bunk. He let out a small moan, disgruntled of being pulled out of slumber by the harsh in and out of breath coming from within the cell.  
Without opening his eyes Mickey knew he was in the bed alone. "Ian" his voice horse, dry from sleeping with it open probably. "You fucking jerkin' off in the corner?" 

"Nah, sit ups" Ian's breath was laboured.

"In the middle of the god damn night?" Mickey placed his hands over his eyes. Wishing for sleep to just take him back, he let the repetitiveness of Ian's grunts lull him.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep" Ian's speech was quickened; Mickey assumed due to the midnight workout. "Figured a bit of exercise, get my heart rate up, a bit of sweat, it'd tire me out soon enough. "

"Yeah how long was that?" 

"Two hours ago maybe less." 

"Get in bed" Mickey groaned. He didn't want to complain because he knew this was Ian's first time doing a stint and the four square walls can mess with your head. He just wished Ian would be a little quieter. 

Mickey didn't wake up till the buzz of the door sounded. Ian was already up, ready to leave without him 

"Ay, you get any sleep?" Hauling himself out of bed trying to reach Ian's arm, tapping at him to make eye contact.

"Sure, some" 

He seemed chipper enough, more than Mickey that was for sure. Mickey dragged his ass to follow Gallagher to the yard. 

"Where you going?" Mickey asked as Ian veered off of their normal path. 

"Gonna run for a bit" Ian informed him as he stretched out his limbs, trying to loosen up his muscles before the run.

"Run fucking where?" Mickey's arms spread out, all four sides covered in metal wiring. The yard featured bleachers, basketball hoop but no running track.

"Just around the edge, I'll do a lap or two. Have a smoke. I'll be back before ya know it." He didn't wait for Mickey to protest, turning his on his heels and he was gone. Ian could feel his feet pounding into the ground all the way up in his chest. The blood rushing, adrenaline pumping, making his face red and his heart race.

He wondered why he ran; he knew he liked it because it symbolised him running into adventure while being stuck in here and feeling like he was moving forward or being in control of the momentum helped. Or perhaps the flip side was it symbolised him constant running away from the mess he'd made. He ran away from Mickey once, and it turned out to be the worst decision of his life. It was what got him here. Or maybe he just liked the physical kick he got out of it; he wasn't the skinny freckled kid from South side anymore.

Whatever it was, he soaked in the sensations as he finished his fifth lap and jogged over to the free weights just as a couple of skinheads finished up. By the time, Mickey joined him, Ian's forehead was glistening with a sheen of sweat, larger beads slowly making their way down his features. Ian let out low grunt of effort as he lifted the weights; probably more that he needed or was use to, by Mickey's estimation.

"Ay, take it easy, man." He was suppose to spot Ian, ensuring his safety while lifting the weights, but the was hyper-focused on each movement. Mickey blinked trying to get his focus there, but he was transfixed by the sounds, the deep and steady rhythm of Ian's breath. With every repetition, the sound practically vibrated through him. Familiar yet alarming. Mickey tried to get rational thought through his head. He knew he should start to worry about the number of times he'd found Ian doing exercises in one form or another, but the sweaty chest and flexing biceps were distracting.

Ian caught his eye and they stared at each other hard, but before Mickey could do more than think about a sweaty, horny Ian, the redhead was up and moving. "Heavy bag is free, Mick."

DeSota motioned Mickey to the main door, and he reluctantly left Ian to find out what the guard wanted. After a detailed overview of why the current laundry service was adding additional hours to his weekly schedule, Mickey stormed away to find Ian still punching the shit out of the bag.

"Ian you gotta stop." Mickey physically had to hold him back from doing one more swing at the punching bag.

"It's just a bit of exercise, relax Mick." 

"Nah it ain't" he sniffed. Fuck Ian felt like the world was trying to take everything away from him. The bipolar took away the army, his EMT life, it pushed him away from Mickey. And now Mickey was going to tell him to stop working out. 

"Listen the doc said..."

"When did you talk to the doc?" Ian interrupted, finally pausing his fists.

"When you haven't slept for three days and are going like the damn Energizer Bunny" Mickey sighed. "Doc said doing lots of exercise can bring on a manic episode."

Ian chuckled. "You worry too much Mickey, it's a runners high, or adrenaline junkie maybe, I'm fine." His hands were bleeding slightly. Mickey wasn't sure if Ian had been beating the punching bag the whole time he been dealing with DeSota, but he looked so hyper focused that Mickey suspected he hadn't stopped since he woken Mickey up with his sit-ups. He understood being in the joint made people squirrelly but Ian seemed more than that and Mickey didn't know what to do about because the heavy bag was now looking slightly deformed with splashes of bright red and dulled rusty brown on the fabric. Mickey was sure Ian would have kept punching it till the beans begun to spill out because the physical destruction seemed to be soothing him.

*******  
The next day, DeSota pulled Mickey from his laundry shift, sending him to the infirmary where Ian was laying in one of the hospital beds, left leg elevated slightly.

His heart stopped. His eyes stung. No he shook his head Mickey wouldn't let his emotions fire the conversation, he wouldn't ask who he had to kill, who had done this to him.   
"The fuck, Ian?"

"Doc says it's a stress fracture in my femur" he said sounding more chipper than worried.

"Ain't that like the strongest bone in the body?"Mickey rubbed the back of his head slowly making his way to Ian. Stepping as if Ian was a wild animal he might spook and bolt Mickey hadn't seen him still for days. 

"Thought the strongest bone was the one I gave ya" Ian laughed trying to break the tension. 

"Not laughing, Ian" 

Ian always felt like a child in trouble when Mickey spoke to him like that; using his name. He had gotten so use to being firecroch, Gallagher, he knew Mickey was worries. But it was unclear if the manic episode was fueling the excessive exercise, or if the workouts fired the manic episode.

"Sorry mick, won't be able to sleep in our bed tonight" Ian leaned his head back on the pillow knowing he fucked up. 

"Nah, but I'll be right here" mickey dragged the metal legs of the chair across the cement floor. Flopping his ass down into the perfect slouch. DeSota would have to work over time to make this happen but Mickey didn't care. Ian was finally resting and Mickey was going to make damn sure he took care of him this time.


	5. Chapter 5

The problem with jail for Ian was he was never even; yes the medication steadied the highs and lows but living in a constant state of control and fear had Ian on edge. 

"Fuck Ian not all black people look the same" Mickey seriously felt he'd never would udder those words. Ian had been pestering him that Kenyatta was in cell block C but they only saw inmates from that cell during work shifts or outdoor hours Mickey hadn't noticed the guy. 

"I'm going to--" Ian's sentence was interrupted by his boyfriend's deadly stare

"Don't matter what you want to do it just don't say it outloud dammit" in a lot of ways Mickey was the mature partner, he was certainly the veteran when it came to prison life and not having preemptive motive being overheard 

"I wouldn't have to say it if you'd had done it when he was in your house" Ian barked opening an old wound and poking around. 'you were the man of the house, you were supposed to protect her and what did you do?"

"You know Mandy she ain't never gonna admit to be a damsel in distress, she could have shot him at any point" out of all the regrets Mickey had not doing more for his sister hit the top of the charts most often. They'd just lived such a different life than the Gallagher's; those siblings protected each other, stuck together against their father where he and his sibings had to out run each other not to get beaten. It was every man for himself. Sometimes that mentality got in the way of the man he was trying to be back then. 

"Well I'm just sayin' next time I see him I'm fixing past mistakes" Ian wouldn't admit it but he felt just guilty for Mandy being so wrapped up in himself; fucked up more times than sober. His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of their doors. Freedom to the yard.

The yard was full, that happened with the prison being over capacity, even with rotation of inmates, still the jail wasn't one to juggle people around; even when they should. The moment Ian's feet hit the cement pad of the yard his eyes fixated on the tall dark giant he associated as Kenyatta. 

Suddenly there was fists flying, Ian getting the first good powerful punch, and the one after that.Next to follow came at his face and his nose was on fire. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, staining it with blood. He vaguely registerd Mickey cursing at him getting through the he circle of inmates that had gathered around. 

He wasn't sure how many punches have been thrown before the whistle of the guards who'd be coming for them shorting was screaming loudly, being louder than skin to skin contact, louder than the homophobic slurs of the on watchers, louder than the echo in his head telling him to throw another punch. 

Ian pulled himself off the ground. He could feel a bruise forming on his face. As he stepped back trying to catch his breath. After a few blinks to steady his eyes he looked for Mickey; finding him he saw the concern in his eyes. Ian glanced back at Kenyatta; only to discover that it wasn't him. "Fuck" he exhaled.

Mickey had been right, but Ian couldn't see it. His brain had tricked him into seeing what it wanted, his obsessive nature or 'pure o' as the therapist had called it; Mickey thought it sounded like a great name for a drug. His obsessive thought became intrusive and Ian struggled with the reality as the thought took extreme measures.

“You shouldn’t have punched hin.” Mickey said finally, looking down at Ian's hands, covered in blood. Trying to scurry Ian off the yard.

“i know" Ian honestly believed in the moment it was Kenyatta his mind was louder than Mickey's words. But now he did truely know that he shouldn't have done it. He knew it was going to cost him, more shrink time, maybe a night in the ward or infirmary.

Ian could think of a lot of things to say to Mickey in that moment, but none of them would change what he had done, none of it would make sense to explain the crazy away.   
“I’m sorry,” he said

“Me too.” Mickey responded to Ian's surprise. Mickey had felt he should have seen Ian's spiral, stopped him, been able to get to him faster; all the guilt he held anytime Ian was in danger; which here seemed a lot more often. “I love you.”

“Me too” 

Mickey was able to shuffle through the crowd, being escorted to the side door so that Ian wouldn't be seen by the time the guards arrived he knew how to work the guards and any snitches that might blab. Right now he needed to help Ian."Let's get you cleaned up"


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't go" Ian could feel the rising panic in his chest. Each breath becoming painful. He wasn’t able to move, the doors unlocked they had visitations he was suppose to be going down to the tables with mickey. Ian wasn’t able to speak, the words chocked in his throat, but they ran freely through his mind; Thoughts running around and around in his head like a dog chasing its own tail, circling around the image of his car ride with Yevgeny. Of abandoning him just like he did Mickey. That the sight of an innocent child made him hate himself so viscerally. The same blue eyes as his father haunted his dreams and now that baby was downstairs, now he was five years old and Ian didn't know how to handle that. 

His mind kept spinning to happy memories, holding Yev while pulling on Mickey's tie for a kiss before work. The sunburn life they tried to have. PTA meetings, carpooling, the little boys laughter. Ian squinted They weren’t even real thoughts any more they were only images of what he wanted, what he had lost.

Movement had started around them DeSota bitching at Mickey for not hauling ass. Mickey trying to look presentable; Ian wondered if thought like his were going through Mickey's head too. Until his voice broke through his loud gruff had a calm and sincere effect on Ian, his hand wrapped around the back of Ian's neck, thumb stroking him softly, gently pulling him from the numbness back into the light, back into the real world.

“We're doin this" mick said simply. He knew he wasn't going to do it alone so he had to get Ian to shake lose whatever thoughts were rolling around this time and get moving.

Ian nodded once, the movement jerky and hesitant, but it brought a smile to Mickey's face and that alone was enough for Ian to forget his own thoughts, to just be there for Mickey; maybe this wasn't about him anyway. 

Ian kept his eyes on Mickey the long walk down the hall and outside to the tables; the last time he sat in that exact table was when Fiona told him she was leaving. 

Today he saw another familiar female; Veronica with her long braids swooped down over one shoulder, her standard skin tight jeans and low cleavage shirt. She held the blonde boy in her lap scanning her surroundings. After ICE took Svetlana. Kevin and Vee were able to take Yevgeny because they had been registered foster parents and had a rapport with the child. "Took you damn long enough. Like where you have to be?" She greeted. 

Mickey sat nervously opposite her while Ian smiled "sorry vee my fault." 

"I'm just pullin' don't worry baby, you look good" she smiled. Ian always loved how her smile could light up a room; it instantly calmed him. Ian swung one leg over the bench seat. He glanced over at Mickey who couldn't take his eyes off his son. 

"You good?" He checked in 

Mickey nodded unconvincingly. "He's big"

"He's five" Vee reminded him 

The number took both men by surprise. Could it really have been that long ago? The event was a memory that felt fresh even after they tried to burry it. So much time had past for them they forgot about the tiny human growing then too. 

Mickey felt his eyes widen, he decided, he could definitely see the resemblance. He hated how much time was missed with his child. The time he didn't want him and didn't want to believe he was his. He hates when Svet would play the part of the loving wife and come down so he could see him. Hated that she used him like that. By the time he realized he wanted him it was too late. 

The silence was longer than either of them noticed. Until vee cleared her throat. "Now that you love yourself you can love your son" 

"Why you think I fucking love myself?" Mickey spat, her words Stung never in his life did he love who he was, what he had become, somehow her words seemed like an insult to his ears.

Vee had the ability to say so much in a single eye glance. "You in here with him ain't you" he head bobbed in Ian's direction "you ain't hiding who you are. Mickey Milkovich I knew wouldn't fucking do that. You love you baby and you love him. And together you can be a family."

Suburban life sounded more like a fairy tale. The things people in here dreamt of, hoped for, went crazy thinking about and died without ever getting. 

DeSota shuffled vee and Yev out the door. Claiming there was an instant and all visitors had to leave immediately. The boy smiled and waved but overall was quiet the entire time. Ian figured he got that from Mickey; strong silent type. 

"Should I of hugged him?" Mickey wondered "nah kid doesn't fucking know who I am. Probably wondering why he had to be here see this ugly mug" 

Ian wasn't paying attention to Mickey otherwise he would have have given him hell he loved that beautiful face. Ian's mind was on DeSota he had the irrational thought that DeSota took Yev away from Mickey over some petty argument that happened weeks ago. Probably neither of the two men involved remembered cross words being spoken. But when a flip goes off in Ian's brain it can make the oddest of connections. 

When they returned to the cell Mickey looked Ian over "you happy to see me or somethin' Gallagher?" Noticing an unusual bulge. Ian gave a sheepish smile and revealed with small phone. 

"You pick-pocketed DeSota's phone?" Mickey both confused and a glint of glee seeing a flash of the Ian he once knew, younger and stupid.

"He was being irritating."

"Ain't he always?" Mickey chuckled 

"But do you know why I pick-pocketed his phone now?" Ian scanned Mickey's face wondering why he wasn't feeling this same sense of thrill "Because now" he shook the phone excitedly "now we can talk to Yev. Build a fucking relationship with him before we're out. He'll know who we are! he'll love us!" That last part came off a bit strong making Mickey worry.

Ian opened the phone and started scrolling "hey you know what!" Another idea sparking in his mind. "We could add dick pics. Fuck, DeSota's face would be priceless"

"So you're gonna give the phone back?"

"I mean not right away but yeah sure. Let him freak for a bit. Give us a chance to make some calls….." 

Mickey rubbed his hand across his face. Ian did it out of love; even if it was crazy. He nodded "ok" they were in this together.


	7. Chapter 7

"He’s the one they don’t like. The one with the sharp tongue--mmm and those eyes..." He shook his head knowing he was losing focus and the message was important for them to hear."But they think he's the bringer of death, darkness, and demise." Ian spoke louder than needed 

"They're wrong" his voice sang going higher into his registry. 

"I'm the danger. I'm the darkness. I'm the one who causes shit, who says the wrong thing--destroyer of dreams" Ian began laughing hysterically, his bright white teeth shone as his head rolled back. " not that I know what those are I only live in nightmares, can't you hear the screams?" His eyes bugged out of his head looking around for those who would agree with him. 

Chester shook his head; he was the only other one in the room. Ironically because Ian had stabbed him; plus Ian's incident with exercise, which led to an infection and a fever throwing his manic behaviour overboard it got him on the Warden's radar and he was scheduled to stay in the Infirmary for a few extra nights. He hadn't seen Mickey since his first night. Probably too many strings were pulled. 

"I'm not going with you, I think we need a break. Let's stab Chester" "His smile filled with dread "all the things I say to push him away. To sit and fester."

"I think he deserved it. Chester's an idiot." Chester's groggy voice pipes up from his bed. 

"Yes. Yes!" The comments getting his enthusiasm back.

He'd have the thank Frank after he got out. Something he thought he'd never do; except Frank was blessed with the ability to speed bullshit and have people applaud him. During Shim that's what Ian loved the most. The rush of acceptance, the thrill of acknowledgment, he was heard, he was believed in.

"They call me crazy, but..." the laugher bubbling at his lips he placed a long slender finger to keep them down "we're all crazy here" laugher came out again. 

Chester nodded "You are a wise seer" 

"Our current predicament" Ian put on his best presidential tone "is bullshit!" He proclaimed loud and proud.

"Guards can be bought, shives can be made, I should be acquit" his one arm still handcuffed to the rail didn't stop him from trying to shake it.

"You know, it's bullshit that Mickey is here, thinkin' he's responsible for me. It ain't fair for him to be locked up. He was free." 

"But was he? Cause he was without me-- Tick tock goes the clock, the time I lost, the time I got left. Mmm--- what I'd do for his cock."

"Well mines taken sweetheart. I got Miegal"

"Didn't he die?" Ian asked without his usually sympathetic tone or caring eyes. He didn't care it didn't add to his nonsense rantings.

"A full prison; fuck maybe too full to make people believe they're safe. I ain't the hardened criminal that should be here! they just go and take all the waifs"

"What the fuck you call me?"

"It means homeless child. Fuck read a book! not like ya got anythin' else to do while you wait to die Chester" Ian's aggravated tone was clear the man had gotten him off topic again.

"Not to mention, all those healthy government kickbacks that must come. Less of them more of us, giving the prisons more time to cause chaos." Ian yelled the last part more trying to add to the chaos even if it was only happening in his mind

"Those who demand don't Comand" he voiced loudly; until his body sank back down in the bed. "that's why I'm here." The realization setting in. The fast pace rantings coming to an end. "All I do is demand shit from Mickey. Never seeing how fucking perfect he is, how many god damn times did he flip his life upside down for me?" Ian could feel his jaw tighten his words slowed down in his brain the words he were speaking were low and clear.

"I'm fucking crazy,  
I'm fucking up,  
I'm fucking in love with him  
And it keeps me alive.  
And it's the thing I keep trying to destroy" 

"That must make me a sucker for punishment" Mickey smiled from the doorway "you writtin' me a love letter Gallagher?" 

"Wha--are you, how'd you" 

"You know I do what I have to. To get back to you" Mickey might not have been there for the entire rant but he knew by what he did hear Ian had been rambling and was probably tried from battling his own brain. "Sleep. I'll be here when ya wake up."


	8. Chapter 8

Ian hated the noise. It destroyed any sense of calm he was trying to keep in his life. No one prepared him for how loud prison was. Inmates yelling through the bars to each other after lights out. The sound of the cafeteria at full capacity, the sound of someone snoring. Noise never stopped. Even when people stopped technology didn't, the humming of the fluorescent lights, the clock ticking, the static of the the guards radios or the stubble sounds of Mickey shifting in bed the sound of the blanket pulling on his dry feet. 

******  
"He won't stop talking..."

Ian placed his head on the cafeteria table. Dickenson was bitching loudly and all Ian could think was if he didn't shut up he was going to make him. 

"Shut up shut up shut up" 

"Did you take your meds?" Mickey asked even though he knows Ian goes every day to see the doc who makes damn sure the pills go down. Ian nodded without lifting his head up. "What is it?" Mick knew the meds didn't make the bipolar go away, he knew he had to watch for the subtle changes building. Today was the day they were going to burst like a volcano

"I just need it to be quit."

"Can go back to the cell block, probably empty."

"Milkovich you whining about an empty stomach just cause I took your puddin'? Pathetic" Dickenson yelled from two tables over.

Rage filled Ian's eyes. Logic and reason we're gone. Dickenson was looking for a fight and he'd give it to him... 

Ian lunged for him. It didn't take long for DeSota to be at his side. He grabbed Ian by his arm dragging him off. 

"DeSota make sure he gets his fucking meds. It's his damn right. You hear me?" Mickey threatened the guard not caring who hard him. His voice was the last thing Ian heard before the cafeteria doors closed  
*****  
Ian awoke to silence, at least outside his mind. He was alone, curled in the corner of the dark room; neck and head aching from lying on the floor instead of the mattress. He knew; even though others would say he wasn't of sound mind. He knew he put himself here. He wanted to be here. Away from the noise, the people. Here he had quiet.

He wasn't sure what the trigger was. Sure Dickenson was an add, but he always was. Maybe it was more than that, Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything—the sleep deprivation, jumbled nerves, the rawness of reality, and an overworked brain. 

His first night in the SHU he was sure he could still here the noise of traffic muffled as it was through the acreage of forest, but it somehow sounds like thunder to him; ironically because he could feel the strom brewing within him. 

He stood in the dark, Ian clenched his fists at his sides and digging his fingernails deep into his palms, hoping that the sting will bring him back and dim his senses. His brain felt heavy inside his skull

Ian took a sharp breathe wondering if he had stopped doing that, his body forcing him to take in air. Slowing he opened remembering the techniques of calming his body using senses. Things he could see. Bed, toilet; solitary confinement was not the place to do this exercise all human things were eradicated here. He took a breath things he could smell. Piss, mold… things he could touch. The cold metal door, The mattress. And things he could feel about himself his skin; hot even to his touch, his head; pounding, the lack of physical comfort for Mickey 

He realized this was a mistake.

*****  
It had been a two days since he had last seen those beautiful blue eyes. Hours that felt like days. Minutes that felt like an eternity since Ian had touched him.

There was no conversation, no hearing, no plea for his innocence. Ian had been carted away quickly and efficiently, down to solitary confinement. He kept replaying the last time he had seen mick; his string of curses trying to convince them to take him instead, that the pudding incident was his fault. But Ian was the one who lept the table threatening to scoop Dickenson's eye out with a spoon.

So now he was here Alone. Sitting in the middle of a room with little light and a strong stench. Meals were twice a day. Which Ian tried to use to tell time; time is the problem it gave him too much time to think

His worst fear was that Mickey was alone, angry and vengeful, that he would ruin his stint here by providing some fucked up justice for Ian. All because he had been an idiot thinking solitary confinement would help anything. 

Ian tired not to think about it; but it's one of those things when you try not to think about it, it's the only thing you can hear. He found himself trying to meditate; but meditation is just the normal people version of talking to yourself; and he's done enough crazy talk to last a life time.

He had done a lot of research during Shim about relaxation and meditation. Studies that said some mental disorders could benefit from things like yoga and meditation. To let his mind wander where it wanted. That it would lead him to the path of enlightenment. Even thinking that made Ian think of Mickey and how stupid he would think it was. The sound of Mickey's disgust in his head made him smile ever so slightly. 

*****  
He hated it here. Being locked up; inside being locked up. A cage within a cage. For Ian the worst part was how much he felt like Monica; her fucked up genes got him here, her daredevil personality he took on as his own, and her denial that he didn't belong in a place like that echoing in his head.

His mind was buzzing; It literally buzzed and it felt like a mix of a sneeze, an ache behind the eyes, and a dull tickle of his brain.

He curled on the bed, so tightly, knees up to his chest, pushing his chin into the top of his knee Clenching his teeth, an tingle in the back of his throat trying to decide if it would be screams of pain and tears or hysterical laughter over nothing.

Ian clasped his hands over his ears, humming to himself, trying to fill the void of silence left there by the lack of sunlight. His eyes dart around, searching for some sort of light, or assurance. 

He sobbed, for no other reason but to be making nosie. True he was sad but it wasn't one thing he'd be able to tell someone he cried because there was nothing he could do. Nothing to fill the emptiness nothing to change the fact he got himself he, nothing to permittly fix his brain.

Sitting into the vast darkness of the cell He leaned against the wall, willing the sun to rise. A light to be turned on any sense of life existing outside these walls.

The door creaked open. Ian squinted to see a familiar silhouette "let's go" 

"How are you here?" Ian now certain he was hallucinating. Mickey voice was clear and couldn't be confused by another; that stance couldn't belong to anyone else if they tried. But there's no way Mickey was able to pull enough strings to get himself down here. 

"My fucking legs now use yours so we can get outta here." Mickey reached his hand out to support Ian "you think I'd let you walk this long hall by yourself; after whatever you've been beaten yourself up about?" Mickey leaned in so his head touched Ian's "when you gonna learn I'll be here for ya fuckin' always"

**Author's Note:**

> Also let's thank J_Q for helping with my writer's block and letting me borrow her minor characters


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